


Five Feet Apart

by Pinkerton



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Hopeful Ending, Humor, Infidelity, M/M, Melodrama, NHL RPF, Polyamory Negotiations, there is a scene where someone is soaked in rain and dramatic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-11-30 14:17:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11465316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkerton/pseuds/Pinkerton
Summary: He’d meant it in April, when he told the locker room that next season was going to be their year, but now something settles in his gut, like a missing piece no one knew to look for till it showed up, and he feels like he can really breathe for the first time in months.Tyler comes to Dallas, and he and Jamie struggle to keep the "bro" in their bromance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **agrossunderstatement** : I just want painful, painful fic about two bros who cannot overcome their internalized homophobia  
>  **yoursummerfrost** : Listen what about like. "canon"-compliant bennguin where Tyler and Jamie used to have "no homo" sex and then finally Jamie gets a girlfriend and it KILLS Tyler
> 
> So, SummerFrost and I chat fic'd and I went "lol, that was fun" and then....uh, I wrote 30 pages of RPF based on it. Whoops.
> 
> Yes, the title is from that Vine. The working title was "no homo but yes homo Bennguin," so clearly, this is a Very Serious Story, which I had a lot of fun writing and hope you have fun reading. Everything in this is fake fake fake, obviously. OBVIOUSLY.
> 
> Thank you to SummerFrost for the beta and for the cheerleading. I'll post the second chapter by the end of the month.

When Tyler comes over to Jamie and Jordie’s apartment for the first time, he brings a mix and match 6 pack and stows it in the fridge without asking first. He sprawls on the couch and makes fun of Jordie’s music, and when they eat he wipes his plate clean, complementing Jamie’s grilling skills. “You really know how to wine and dine a guy,” he says, saluting Jamie with his beer bottle before eating his last bite of steak.

“Welcome to Texas, man.” Jamie sets the plate down in the sink and opens his freezer. “You’re gonna love it. Ever heard of Blue Bell ice cream?”

It’s hours later when Tyler leaves, and Jamie takes a minute after he closes the door. He’d meant it in April, when he told the locker room that next season was going to be their year, but now something settles in his gut, like a missing piece no one knew to look for till it showed up, and he feels like he can really breathe for the first time in months.

Summer stretches on and as guys trickle back into the city from their vacations phones light up with texts and calls about plans. They gather at bars and clubs, at restaurants and at player’s homes; they hang out with and without wives and girlfriends. Tyler and rest of the new guys get invited to everything, and he brings the same easy smile and big laugh that he showed Jamie when they met. 

Jamie had heard about his partying, his frustration with being on a team of old marrieds. To be honest, Jamie is ready for the party boy persona to emerge. They’ve got a team full of young guys and some fun would help bring everyone together -- Jamie’s confident that the respect they have for him as captain would keep any shenanigans on the more or less acceptable side of things, despite Seguin’s best efforts. 

Whatever kind of guy Jamie had expected, that’s not who consistently shows up. The first outing that’s the entire team, a few days before training camp starts, is at a new place with velvet ropes and bottle service -- the whole nine yards. The married guys beg off by midnight, but the younger crew shut down the club. Tyler dances and flirts and subtly directs cute girls to his teammates. 

“That is a _bro_ ,” Jansey slurs at Jamie, gesturing toward Tyler with his drink. “So goddamn dreamy he could get any chick, but no, he’s pulling for us ugly fuckers.” Jamie shoves Jansey away heads to the bar. The kid’s not wrong. That Segs is attractive is no secret from anyone, especially from Segs himself.

Tyler’s at the bar too, so Jamie waits with him, just able to hear Tyler’s voice over the music. “This is fun!” He’s yelling, leaning in close to Jamie’s ear. “Your boys are cool, man.” The lights flash off him, and Jamie wonders how his hair is still perfect after hours of sweaty dancing, and how his cologne is still just strong enough to smell when he sways closer.

Jamie takes his beer from the bartender. “They’re your boys too, now. Got it?”

Tyler beams back at him before vanishing back into the crowd. Jamie spots him right before he leaves, sitting in a booth, deep in conversation with a beautiful woman. He’s working the crinkled nose smile hard, and the woman laughs and tosses her hair. Jamie sends off a salute in the direction of the booth and heads home.

He sleeps like a baby and wakes up to a string of group texts; Tyler’s organizing a hangover brunch. There’s a couple messages just to him, too.

_think i helped get a rookie laid last night_

_the kids have no game_

_how long til they start pranking me??_

He thinks a minute about his first year and types out a response, sending it and then heading toward the shower.

_Better watch your food today, bro. They always hurt the ones they love the most._

****

Preseason interviews start up, and everyone wants a piece of him or Tyler, or both. Tyler’s charming with the media, but quick to turn the conversation away from his time in Boston with his expectations and hopes for the upcoming season. 

After a very long day of fan meet and greets and a team photo session, Jamie can see Tyler starting to fray around the edges. He picks him up early the next morning and takes him out to a driving range. They make up bullshit contests when they get bored of hitting drives. Tyler loses more than he wins, and blames his club, the Texas humidity, and the president. “Thanks, Obama,” he says as his shot goes wide. 

Jamie snorts. “We have 10 minutes before we have to leave for practice. You good?”

“Yeah, thanks for bringing me out. It’s a nice break from press.” Tyler stretches, his shirt riding up to expose a sliver of his toned abs, then leans against the low wall dividing their spaces. “They’ve been on me since the trade. I don’t really want to talk about that. What am I supposed to say? I still got questions about it too, you know? I’d rather focus on what’s next with you guys than speculate on how exactly I may or may not have screwed up.”

“Sounds reasonable. You know our PR team has signals --”

“Oh yeah, they’re great. Nah, I’m good. Thanks, though. For everything.” Tyler looks out over the green. “Shit, it’s hot. How long till you get used to this?”

“For a Canadian? Never.” Jamie laughs at Tyler groans at him. 

That night they film a series of short clips for the team website, and when PR drops off a stack of cards for Tyler, he reads them slowly then grins at Jamie. He peppers his interview with lines like ‘taking control of my career’ and ‘creating my own narrative’. 

After they wrap up, he slings an arm over Jamie’s shoulder. “You’re a fucking good captain. Let me buy you a drink.”

They end up at a Tex-Mex place and eat an obscene amount of tacos, switching from margaritas to water about two drinks too late. At some point in the night, they change each other’s phone contacts to “HOCKEY BRO 4LYFE.” 

Jamie wakes up the next day with a splitting hangover, a dozen selfies with Tyler he doesn’t remember taking on his phone, and a vague memory of telling him how pretty his eyes are.

****

The start of the season is brutal and beautiful, as always. The team is clicking, the crowds at home games are growing, and Jamie is remembering what it’s like to have fun on the ice. 

He’s having less fun romantically, though. He’s struck out on a series of set ups. Nice girls, decent times out, but nothing with a spark. They’ve got an insane road series coming up almost immediately followed by back to back games at home, so he figures dating just isn’t going to happen for a month or so. It’s fine. He’s been single longer. 

So he bumps up hanging out with Segs to fill time, trading off between their apartments. A handful of nights his texts go unanswered, and Tyler shows up the next morning for a ride to practice with two cups of coffee, a smile, and zero explanation.

They hit a losing streak on their roadie and while they manage to rally while back at home, they’re exhausted. They have an early Sunday game and then two days off. When Segs shows up at Jamie’s door with a case of beers and a pizza, he sighs in relief. 

“Wanna get wasted and play video games till we pass out?” Tyler asks as he walks in and starts to shove beer in Jamie’s fridge. They spend the next four hours barely moving from the giant couch, and their video games slowly go from mostly playing with some shit talking, to mostly shit talking, to just talking, beer cans littering the carpet by their feet. 

“Dumbest mistake you made as a rookie?” Tyler’s eating the cheese off the last slice of pizza. Jamie watches his fingers as he licks the grease off.

“Uh, pass.”

“Oh no.” Tyler tosses the crust back in the box. “C’mon, dumbest thing.”

Jamie buries his face in his hands. “Fine. So there were like, six or seven of us who couldn’t get into a club one night, so we ended up drinking back at the hotel, and for some reason we decided to play Never Have I Ever.”

Tyler cackles. “You have to drink to some things you’re not proud of, Jameson?”

“I wish. No, turns out our goddamn back up goalie had a threeway over the summer, and he started talking about it. I’m pretty sure he was making up most of it, but it was hot, and I popped a boner and--”

“Holy shit, is that why they call you Chubs?”

“Fuck, no. Jesus.” Tyler’s laughing so hard he can’t speak, and it takes Jamie calling Jordie, who is on a date and very displeased to hear from his brother, to get him to confirm Jamie’s nickname origins. The third time Tyler tries to wrestle the phone away and talk to Jordie himself, Jordie hangs up. It’s short work for Jamie to pin Tyler, who taps out, gasping for breath and laughing.

They sit side by side, Tyler leaning on Jamie for a while. “So,” Tyler says. “What happened after you got a boner?”

“What do you think?”

Tyler’s grinning at Jamie, which is normal, but there’s an edge to it that’s unfamiliar. He licks his lips, drawing Jamie’s eyes to his mouth, and when he looks back up at Tyler’s eyes, something in them shifts. “Rookie gangbang?”

Jamie’s mouth drops open. “Holy shit, you’ve got a dirty mind.” 

He feels Tyler shrug against him. “Aw, c’mon. All those fit dudes in a hotel room --”

“--with acne and bad haircuts and bad cologne--”

“You still have a bad haircut--”

“Hey!” Jamie shoves at Tyler, who just giggles.

There’s some shuffling as Tyler grabs his beer and drains it, adding the can to the mess on the floor before settling back against Jamie’s side. “Okay, yeah, teenage boys are disasters. Good point. But, you never had a buddy help you out?” 

“Help me out?” Jamie is 99% sure he knows what Tyler means, but he isn’t risking being wrong.

Tyler shifts minutely next to him. “You know. Bro-jobs?”

“Oh my god. That _was_ what you meant.”

Tyler leans forward and turns to face Jamie. His cheeks are a little pink from the beer, and his hair is spiked up from where he was leaning on Jamie’s shoulder. “So...that’s a no?” 

“Are you asking if I want one or if I’ve heard of them?” Jamie can feel his voice rise as he talks.

“Both.”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I’m not gay.” 

“Okay, so that’s kind of a mixed message, there.” Tyler tilts his head as he looks at Jamie. “And it doesn’t have to be gay. Like, handjobs only? No? Sorry, man. Forget it, must be the beer talking.” 

He moves to stand up, but Jamie’s had shoots out and grabs his wrist. He’s never seen Tyler look surprised before, no trace of the good natured smirk he usually wears. “Jamie?”

Jamie licks his lips. “Okay.”

Tyler makes a noise deep in his throat, a low hum of approval. “It’s just some fun, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

****

Jamie can’t fall asleep. It could be that the fan is making an off-balanced thunking noise as it rotates. Or maybe that he forgot to bump down the a/c before he climbed into bed and it’s not quite cold enough.

Or, more likely, it’s because Tyler Seguin just jerked him off on his couch a couple hours ago.

And then Jamie returned the favor.

And then Segs high fived him.

It’s fine, Jamie figures. He and Tyler talked about it before. Sort of. They hadn’t been that drunk. Jamie probably didn’t totally ruin his entire life and his team, and also Seg’s life.

Jamie rolls on his side, trying to find a cool spot on the sheets. “Why did he have to get traded, anyway?” he mumbles into the dark of the room. “I bet Brad Marchand never had these kinds of problems.”

Jamie briefly considers calling Marchand for confirmation of that.

In the end, he rolls on his stomach, shoves his face into his pillow, and screams.

****

It’s awkward. 

It’s not the weirdest vibe Jamie’s ever had in the locker room, and he wouldn’t say he’s avoiding Tyler, exactly, but there’s a few days with no texts and no hanging out. 

He appreciates the space, but when they end up sitting next to each other at lunch a few days later, Tyler up in his space and his guac, cracking jokes and showing him photos of his dogs, Jamie feels like he can exhale. 

He didn’t ruin the team, and he didn’t ruin his life, and he and Tyler are still friends.

It’s all going to be just fine, and nothing like what happened on his couch will ever happen again.

****

It happens again.

It’s late winter and they’re both holed up in Jamie’s hotel room, whiteboards and laptops spread all over the bed. The rest of the guys have headed off to sleep, but Tyler has a play he had cooked up in the OHL, and Jamie is the only one who’ll indulge him and listen. 

They’re both exhausted though, from travel and the time change, and it’s not long before they’re both dozing. Jamie wakes up first, and he nudges Tyler with his leg. “Hey, Tyler, c’mon. You’re sleeping on the play board.” 

When Tyler finally groans and sits up, marker x’s and o’x are smudged on his cheek. “What?” he asks when Jamie starts laughing. “What’s funny?”

“Your face.” Jamie grabs his phone and flips the camera so Tyler can see himself. Tyler snorts and rubs at his face, which just smears the marker everywhere. 

“Oh my god, hold still,” Jamie says, licking his finger and leaning in to wipe at Tyler’s cheek. 

“Fucking gross,” Tyler says, dodging away, but not fast enough.

“Stop being a fucking baby.” Jamie gets most of the marker off, then grabs Tyler’s chin and tilts his head away to inspect. His finger brushes against Tyler’s lip.

Tyler shivers.

Jamie freezes, and when Tyler licks his lips, he can just feel the tip of his tongue against his index finger. He pulls his hand back and clears his throat. “Think you need to wash your face.”

“Yeah,” Tyler says, voice low. The moment stretches. Neither of them move. 

Finally, Tyler looks away. “Guess I should go.”

“Or, you could, uh -- “ Jamie hesitates.

“Stay?” Tyler fills in. 

“Yeah.” They hold each other’s gaze for a long minute, then Tyler goes to wash his face. He settles in next to Jamie, and they go slow, half watching tv, half talking about girls they’ve fucked. By the time he comes, Jamie’s sleepy.

Tyler doesn’t make it back to his room. He doesn’t snore, but he’s a blanket hog.

You win some, you lose some, Jamie figures.

****

If Jamie had to put a label on it, he’d say that he and Segs were friends with benefits. Not much changes, just now there’s random handjobs in addition to the hanging out and hockey. Tyler’s easy with physical affection for all his friends and teammates, so if Jamie notices him sitting closer on bus rides, or being clingy at a club, no one else does. It’s just Segs being Segs, the guy who dishes out shoulder massages and scalp rubs, who never watches a movie from his own seat when he can instead sprawl all over the nearest warm body. 

They laugh a lot, and there’s a good amount of roughhousing and wrestling mixed in. It’s fun, and it’s easier than picking up. The edge of worry about it slowly recedes, except on the random nights Tyler won’t return his texts, and Jamie is convinced anew that he’s ruined one of the best friendships he’s ever had. He finally asks Tyler about it one morning, over diner omelets and hashbrowns.

“Oh,” Tyler says, taking a long drink drink of his disgustingly sugary coffee. “Sorry, man. Sometimes I just need some me time, you know?”

Makes sense, Jamie figures.

****

It’s not like Jamie means to totally stop dating. It just kind of happens. He’s getting off often enough to take the edge off, and, in categories of things he’s not going to think too hard about, the mix of orgasms and hockey is kind of awesome.

It’s not like Jamie had never thought about how a good workout feels a little like sex, intense and sweaty and good, but now the link is anything but metaphorical -- he still gives Tyler a ride after morning training sessions, but instead of them going their separate ways, a couple times a month they end up in Tyler’s shower together. They rarely hook up on road trips after the first time, always aware of thin walls and the almost magical ability of their teammates to con keycards out of the staff so they can set up pranks.

They’re only stupid once. Jamie finds out he’s on the Canadian Olympic Team, and Tyler gets him off in a rarely used bathroom deep in the corridors of the arena. It’s reckless, but Jamie’s not sure if he’s ever felt so good in his life. 

****

“Shhhhh,” Jamie hisses. “I gotta concentrate.” He puts all his focus on the keys in his hand. One of them will open his front door. Fuck, which one?

“This is why you’re captain,” Tyler slurs from where he’s draped over Jamie’s shoulder. “You’re a problem solver. S’hot.”

The fundraiser that ended two hours ago had been brutal, full of the worst kind of moneyed, society men and women, people who knew little about a lot, wanted to talk about it, and had very little sense of humor. Jamie had zoned out and turned up his Canadian politeness as much as he could. After three hours of schmoozing, they had managed to raise an impressive sum that would go towards sports initiatives for underprivileged kids. As awesome as that was, Jamie had been ready to fake death if it would have gotten him out of that ballroom. 

Segs had swooped in, as usual, walking Jamie over to the hotel bar after the event was finally, mercifully over. A couple autographs and selfies for the bartender meant that they had gotten heavy pours of the really good stuff -- Jamie can still taste the lime from his last tequila shot, expensive booze that he really should have savored, but was already too drunk to do anything but throw it back and chase it with beer. 

“C’mon, I gotta piss,” Tyler whines into his ear, and, finally, the right key slips into the lock. Tyler runs to the bathroom, and when he comes back out, Jamie’s already left a trail of clothes behind him on his way to his bed. 

“I want nachos,” Tyler stands beside the bed and pokes Jamie’s shoulder. 

Jamie lifts up the covers. “Just get in, Segs.” Tyler does, and they pass out almost instantly.

When Jamie wakes up, he feels like hammered shit. Tyler’s half on top of him and stole all the covers sometime in the night. “Segs,” Jamie says, shaking him gently.

“Too early,” Tyler complains. “Feel gross.”

“Me too.” Jamie’s head aches, and he doesn’t really want to move. He’s horny, too, because hangovers are a cruel, cruel punishment. “I wanna die but I also wanna get laid.”

“Same,” Tyler says, and then he’s shuffling and moving down the bed, and now Jamie feels even more like he might actually die because Tyler is sucking him off. It’s slow, and sloppy, and so perfect that Jamie’s eyes roll back in his head when he comes with his fingers in Tyler’s hair.

As Jamie catches his breath, Tyler climbs on top of him, sitting heavy across his hips, and looks down at him. He’s hard, and there’s come on the corner of his mouth and a crease on his cheek from the pillow. Jamie’s trying to take it all in when Tyler asks, “Gonna leave me hanging?”

“I can’t, uh, do what...you did.” Jamie takes a deep breath. “I think if I move my head I might die.”

“That’s fine,” Tyler says, reaching over to take Jamie’s hand and lead it to his cock. It doesn’t take long for him to come, making a mess on Jamie’s chest. 

When Tyler recovers enough to look at Jamie, his eyes go wide. He leans forward and rubs two fingers across Jamie’s chin. “Sorry, man. Got a little on your face.”

 _I came in your mouth,_ Jamie thinks. “All good. I’m calling rookies till one of them brings us hangover breakfast.”

“Ugh, you’re so smart.” Tyler climbs off him. “I’m gonna shower. Get me a bacon egg and cheese?”

“Extra bacon, on a plain bagel, one half toasted, one half not, I know, you giant pain in the ass,” Jamie says. 

The washcloth Tyler tosses him lands square on his face. 

By the time Bricks and Jansey shows up with their food, they’ve both showered and are nursing giant cups of coffee. 

“You brought us donuts, too?” Tyler roots through the bags on the coffee table. “Favorite rookies. Best rookies.”

He repeats it again so Bricks can record it, and after an hour of bullshitting and watching tv, Jamie feels less shaky.

Sure, he jerks off a couple times later in the week to the thought of Tyler’s mouth on him. It’d been awhile since anyone had blown him, and it was shockingly good. 

The fourth time he gets off to it, he says Tyler’s name when he comes.

A few days later, a beautiful brunette woman buys him a drink at a bar, and Jamie doesn’t hesitate at all as he walks over to her. “Hey, thanks for the drink. What’s your name?”

“Jayme.” Her smile is brilliant.

“You’re kidding. I’m Jamie, too.”

“Well, guess we already have something in common.”

Jamie sits down. “I guess so.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: So, we’re switching to Tyler’s POV starting at the morning of hangovers and sex, cause that’s what happens when you accidentally draft the second half of a story first. Writing, a fun hobby.

Tyler stays where he is for a beat, eyes still closed. His head still hurts, but the fading pleasure of an orgasm helps a little. No responsibilities or obligations are waiting for him today, and he’s already with Jamie, so he doesn’t have to waste any time finding him and convincing him to hang out. He squeezes his thighs just a bit, and feels Jamie twitch beneath him. He opens his eyes. 

Jamie is spread out beneath him, trembling slightly -- he must have come really hard. Tyler’s lips twitch, ready to smirk, but then he looks at Jamie’s face. He’s seen Jamie hungover, bleary eyed with exhaustion before, and he’s seen him sweaty and fucked out, but he’s never seen both at once. 

Jamie sighs and shifts minutely, just enough so that the faint morning sun seeping through the curtains they forgot to close hits his face. Tyler freezes, then leans forward and rubs two fingers across Jamie’s chin. “Sorry, man. Got a little on your face.”

Jamie halfheartedly shrugs. “All good. I’m calling rookies till one of them brings us hangover breakfast.” He turns to feel around under the pillows for his phone. His hair is a mess, he’s got bags under his eyes, and he definitely needs a shower sooner rather than later, but then again so does Tyler. 

He crawls off Jamie and out of the bed, and after he’s assured breakfast is on the way, takes a long shower in Jamie’s huge master bathroom. He sets up camp, running through the showerhead massage settings and using the loofa that he knows Jamie’s mom put in there her last visit.

It doesn’t hit him till he’s shaving, using a thick layer of Jamie’s fancy, fair-trade shave butter, running his fingers over his chin, mirroring the way he’d touched Jamie’s face earlier.

He is in love with Jamie Benn. 

The thought flits across his mind, and before he can do anything to prevent it, settles deep in his chest. 

Fuck.

* * * *

Tyler drives home later that day and goes about his normal routine. Except nothing feels routine now, especially not the seven different contingency plans he’s come up with to deal with this goddamn catastrophe of being in love with his best friend. 

His best friend who’s dick he has been intimately acquainted with for months.

Shit. Maybe he should have seen this coming. 

It doesn’t matter in the end because they go out with some of the boys on Saturday night, and Tyler catches Jamie walking to the bathroom out of the corner of his eye while he’s waiting for his drink at the bar, chatting with a very pretty brunette.

It’s just too easy -- she asks if he’s here with anyone just as Jamie comes back. Instead of answering, he just points, directing her gaze. “My pal Jamie over there is a good guy. Likes gorgeous women like you and Jack and cokes.”

Tyler returns to his teammates just as the cocktail waitress delivers a drink to Jamie “from the lady at the bar.” Jamie rolls his eyes at the barrage of chirps, and heads over to the bar, glass in hand. Tyler watches him sit down.

Two hours later, they’re still talking. Tyler takes one last look before he heads out -- Jamie’s foot is resting on her stool, his leg just barely against hers. He’s got a dopey look on his face, and his smile is beaming. 

_Good_ , Tyler thinks. _Perfect._

* * * *

“Like, you can totally still choose. Tyler, Segs, Segs Jr. There’s a lot of options.”

“Oh my god, shut up, I’ve gone on two dates with her, please do not start naming our future children after yourself.” Jamie adds a scoop of potato salad to his already full plate -- Brett and his wife are both insanely good cooks and put out a huge spread every year for their twin daughters’ birthday. Tyler eyes the last deviled egg, just to the right of Jamie’s hand. “I’ve gotten girlfriends without your help before.” He spears the egg and puts it on his plate. Dammit.

“Yeah, but I totally helped, right? I’m just saying, this woman seems like the total package, and her standards are probably pretty high, even though she’s dating you --” 

Jamie spends the rest of the party ignoring Tyler.

He totally texts him about wardrobe choices before his and Jayme’s third date, though. The green tie he finally settles on does something very nice to his eyes; Tyler looks at the photo for a long minute before saving it. 

He’s restless at home that night, his mind wandering. It’s just past eleven, and he hasn’t heard from Jamie in hours. He knows what that means. It doesn’t take him long to make a decision. He puts on his tightest jeans and a shirt that clings to his abs, then puts his phone on silent and heads out.

* * * *

The team is allowed one week to chirp Jamie about landing a girlfriend who has the same name, and then the fines are established, and they are steep enough to genuinely deter the boys. 

Well, it’s either the fines or the way Jamie can shift from looking dopey and love struck to murderous terrifyingly fast when he senses a chirp coming.

The best part is that rather than losing his bro, Tyler gains Jayme, who is pretty much as rad as he had hoped. They chill together all the time, and she sets him up with her friends so they can double date. No one sticks, but Tyler never feels like a third wheel. 

He still goes radio silent every couple of months to pick up at a bar or club, driving way out of Dallas and spending the night fucking a random dude in a hotel room. As he’s gotten better known, he’s become more cautious. He figures Jamie would chirp him to death, if he knew about it. 

The fact that most of his hook ups are tall and broad and have brown eyes and big hands is probably a coincidence.

* * * *

They amble into the off season, and Tyler buys a house and adds to his dog family, and then Jamie buys a house three blocks away and Jayme moves in with him, and they chill a lot, and it’s kind of the best summer Tyler has ever had.

Jamie gets engaged over Labor Day and married the next summer. The 50 plus hockey players in attendance sniffle as Jamie and Jayme exchange vows under a perfect sunset. Tyler’s second-best man speech is epic, and totally upstages Jordie’s best-man toast. 

A month later, a package comes in the mail for Tyler. It’s a framed photo from the reception, the two of them standing in the grass just to the side of the dance floor, catching their breath. Jamie has his arm around Tyler, and they’re both laughing, faces scrunched up, their jackets unbuttoned and their ties loose after a night of dancing. Marshall and Cash are sitting attentively at Tyler’s feet, their bowties, special ordered to match the bridesmaid dresses, standing out against their dark bodies. 

Tyler hangs it in his living room, and when he goes to visit Jamie and Jayme a few days later, he finds a matching copy in their den.

* * * *

It’s a fucking barista of all things, a guy with honey colored eyes and sharp cheekbones who hands Tyler his coffee more days than not. He talks Tyler into trying a lavender latte that is one of the best things he’s ever put in his mouth. The barista has a coughing fit when Tyler tell him this, and that night, Tyler sends his first text to Adrian. 

It takes a couple weeks before their schedules line up, but they meet up for drinks, and a few days later for dinner. Adrian is suitably impressed by Tyler’s house when he takes him home for the first time, and even more impressed by Tyler’s abs. 

After, laying in the dark, listening to Adrian’s soft breathing, Tyler feels something in his chest relax. This could work, he thinks. He could have this. 

* * * *

“Spill.” Jamie loads pickles onto his burger, then looks at Tyler expectantly. 

Tyler takes his time turning off the grill. “What?”

“Why’d you ask me over?” 

“I need to use up the food in my fridge before I leave.” Tyler sits across from Jamie at the patio table and adds a handful of chips to his plate, then digs in.

“Bullshit.”

Tyler swallows his mouthful of burger, then sighs. “So, the thing is --”

By the time he finishes telling Jamie about Adrian, Jamie’s stopped eating in favor of staring, slightly open-mouthed, at Tyler. “You have a boyfriend?”

Tyler grimaces. “We haven’t quite gotten there. We’re waiting till I get back to town to define things.”

Jamie doesn’t say anything.

“Jamie,” Tyler says, breaking the silence that is threatening to become awkward. “This is kind of a big deal, man. Can you say something?”

Jamie clears his throat. “I’m happy for you, if this is what you want.” He pokes at his burger. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Me either.” They finish their food and play with the dogs for a bit, and by the time Jamie heads home Tyler feels more relaxed than he has in years. 

That night, a summer thunderstorm sits heavy over Dallas, lightning bolts streaking across the night sky. Tyler’s poking through his closet, setting aside what he wants to take north. His flight is in three days, so he doesn’t really need to rush. He tidies up enough that he won’t be embarrassed when his assistant comes over the next day, and then turns off the lights and gets into bed.

He’s debating whether to go to sleep or watch one more episode of Law and Order when he gets a text from Jamie, who is apparently on his way over. Tyler shoots off a reply telling Jamie to let himself in. The Benns are leaving for Victoria the next day -- Tyler must have something Jamie wants to borrow for the trip last minute. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s used Tyler’s house like a 24-hour Walmart. 

He hears him coming up the stairs. “In my room!” Tyler makes no move to get up or to stop texting -- Jamie has his own key and can get whatever he’s itching to borrow himself; Tyler’s comfy.

He hears Jamie come in the room as he finishes up a text to his sister. “C’mon man, I’m sleepy. Just get whatever it is and --” when he looks up, his admonishment dies on his lips.

Jamie is breathless and absolutely drenched, standing in the doorway and dripping on Tyler’s floor. “Fuck, did you run here from your place?” Tyler asks.

“Yes.” 

Jamie hesitates for a second, then strides over and climbs onto the bed and Tyler has just enough time to say “Are you crazy, you’re gonna get the sheets all wet,” before Jamie is kissing him, shivering and damp, lips warm. 

Tyler melts into it, then there’s a clap of thunder, and he pulls back. “Oh my god, what are you--”

“Please.” There’s just enough light for Tyler to see his eyes, pleading and dark, lashes still damp. 

“Fuck you,” Tyler says, and then he kisses Jamie again, and again. All those times they got each other off years ago, they never did this, they never kissed, and Tyler is drowning in it. The storm picks up, illuminating the room in bursts. Jamie strips out of his wet clothes, and Tyler kicks down the covers. He grabs Jamie and flips them, kneeling over him, licking a path down his chest. He’s kissing the inside of Jamie’s thigh when Jamie pulls him up, mumbling “too far away,” and then Jamie’s mouth is on his again. 

Tyler ends up in Jamie’s lap, one hand on Jamie’s cock and one in his hair, tugging gently. Jamie’s kisses grow messier and messier till he gives up, pressing his forehead to Tyler’s, the soft gasps he makes when Tyler pulls his hair falling hot against Tyler’s mouth. He comes with a shudder, then surges forward to kiss Tyler, knocking him backwards and then sliding down his body. “Jamie--” Tyler starts, whatever he was going to follow with lost as Jamie mouths at his cock. 

Jamie uses his mouth and his big soft hands, bringing Tyler to the edge before he moves back up his body and buries his face in Tyler’s neck, pressing his lips just under Tyler’s ear. Tyler can hear the soft murmur of his own name over the noise of the rain outside; it’s that as much as Jamie’s hand that finishes him. 

They doze, and when Tyler wakes up, it’s still dark. He’s lying with his head against Jamie’s chest. He can hear his heartbeat and feel his chest rising and falling as he drifts off again.

When he wakes up again, the sun is up, and Jamie is gone.

*****

His texts and phone calls go unanswered, so Tyler sticks with his original plans and flies into Toronto a few days later. His mother picks him up and he’s never been so happy to see her and to be in her house, to let her fuss over him and feed him. He watches tv that night with his head in her lap, her fingers carding through his hair, and the next day he heads up to his summer place on the lake. He spends a few days texting Jamie to no avail and feeling sorry for himself, then a few more imagining what it’s going to be like back in Dallas.

He thinks of the rest of the summer without Jamie, and then the pre-season, together every day with this hanging between them. 

There’s no way they’re going to be able to play together if Jamie won’t talk to him.

He calls the Stars office and asks to be traded. The GM, never one to mince words, asks Tyler if he’s actually lost his fucking mind. It takes hours, but about the fifth time he says that if they don’t trade him he’ll walk, damn the consequences, and once everyone stops screaming about lawsuits and contract breaches, Tyler agrees to take 48 hours to think things through. 

In the middle of the night, someone starts pounding on his front door and won’t stop. Tyler opens the door wielding a baseball bat. 

It’s Jayme.

* * * *

The smell of coffee brewing is something Tyler usually finds soothing, a ritual that starts the day, a scent that promises time to think and to energize. As Tyler listens to his coffee maker sputter out the final drops into the pot, he takes a deep breath, the scent of the good, expensive beans he stocks his kitchen with filling his nose, and wonders how he could have been so wrong. 

Jayme is sitting silently at his kitchen table. Tyler sets down two full mugs and the sugar and milk, then pulls out a chair for himself. The silence lasts while they doctor their cups, and Tyler is left to look grimly into his. It’s not enough liquid to drown himself, but maybe? If he really committed to it?

Finally Jayme clears her throat. Tyler steels himself, and looks her in the eye. “Do you love him?” she asks.

All he can do is nod, miserably. 

She sighs deeply and wraps her fingers around her mug. “My husband and his best friend. Isn’t the cliche supposed to be that it’s my own best friend he cheats on me with?” She tilts her head and looks at Tyler, like she’s never really seen him before. “He’s supposed to talk you into staying in Dallas. He thinks I came cause I don’t trust him around you now.”

“Don’t you?” Tyler asks.

“He said it was a one time mistake --” Tyler flinches “-- and that it will never happen again, and I really want to believe him.”

“Do you want me to tell you I’ll stay away from him? Is that why you came?” 

“I came because he’s my husband and he’s miserable and I’m not letting him do this alone.” She drains her coffee and points at the cup. When Tyler returns with the pot, he also has a bottle of Bailey’s. She rolls her eyes but pours some in, and he doses his mug as well. 

They sip their drinks in silence, and Tyler tries to imagine the conversation that led the Benns here, imagine how it felt for both of them to find out Jamie had been ordered to fly out and talk the guy who wrecked his life into staying on a team where they’ll see each other six days a week for 9 months of the year. 

“He hates me, doesn't he?” The words come out soft.

“Too busy hating himself to hate you.”

“I’m sorry.” He means it, truly. “Everything’s ruined now, isn’t it?”

“If you could take it back, would you?” Jayme’s face is unreadable.

Tyler licks his lips and takes a sip of his coffee, then sets the mug down carefully. “No.”

“Didn’t think so.” She reaches down to scratch Marshall’s ear -- Tyler didn’t even notice when he came into the room. “I’m not leaving him, just so you know.”

“Oh, thank god, he’d--”

“And I don’t think you should, either.”

“What?” Clearly he heard wrong. 

“Leave him. You shouldn't. How do you feel about couple’s therapy?” Jayme slides a card across the table. 

“For me and you?” Reading the card doesn’t ease his confusion. It’s an address of some doctor he’s never heard of. 

“For you and Jamie. And me and Jamie, separately. And the three of us together. It’s my ultimatum. We all talk about our feelings, because Jamie loves us both, and we, god help us, love him, and that’s something, right? So we all sit down together, since you two are clearly incapable of doing it alone, or, you end up traded to god knows where on a shitty, thrown together contract, and Jamie stays miserable, and I stay mad, and everything is actually ruined for real.”

Tyler’s mind is reeling. “Jamie loves me?”

“That’s what you’re taking away from this?” Jayme sighs. “You have a guest room? I need to get some sleep before my husband wakes up and realizes I snuck out.”

Jayme sleeps. Tyler doesn’t. He plays their conversation over in his head and makes a half hearted attempt to sort out his thoughts. Googling “best friend wife wants counseling” just leads to a lot of porn, so he gives up on that and eventually dozes on the couch under a pile of dogs. 

By the time Jayme shakes him awake, it’s almost 10, and she tells him Jamie is on his way over from their hotel. When he arrives, the three of them have a very awkward late breakfast, and then Jayme takes the dogs for a walk.

Jamie and Tyler watch her go, sitting next to each other on the wide porch steps that look out over the lake. Enough time passes that Tyler can only just make out three specks moving slowly forward on the opposite shore. It’s a beautiful day, and if he hadn’t fucked up his entire life, he’d be out in his little boat, drinking beer in the sun. Instead, he’s sitting in the middle of a married couple’s fight that has him in the center. 

He’s tired. 

“Jamie, what the hell man?” It comes out without venom, any possible sting softened by Tyler’s weariness.

It’s a long minute or two before Jamie speaks. “You can’t leave the team.”

“I can do whatever I want.” The sun is high and Tyler wishes he had his sunglasses. “Won’t talk to me for days, then you show up here to ask me to stay? Management really convinced you that this would work, huh?”

“Management didn’t send me.” The words slip out quietly. “Jayme did.”

Tyler sighs, but before he can speak, Jamie continues. “I wasn’t going to keep this from her, you couldn’t have asked that, and you know--”

“I don’t know shit, man.” Tyler interrupts, shaking his head. “I tell you I’m maybe seeing someone and then you show up at my house and throw yourself at me --” 

“Hey!” Jamie says, but Tyler ignores him.

“--and then you fuck off like some one night stand and won’t talk to me.” He can feel anger rising as he talks, and he’s too tired and heartbroken to try and tamp it down. "You never should have come over that night, or I should have kicked you out, but that’s not what happened and now your wife is walking my dogs after telling me you love me and I’m trying to do the right thing, but fuck if I know what that is.”

“Oh,” Jamie says.

“Yeah, ‘oh.’” Tyler scans the lake. Jayme and the dogs are out of sight around the bend, which means she’s still got a good half an hour left on her walk before she’ll return. Half an hour, and then they’ll both leave, and Tyler will go on with his vacation, get traded -- 

“She’s right.” Jamie interrupts Tyler’s train of thought.

“What?”

“I do love you.” Tyler turns to look at Jamie, who is resolutely staring straight ahead. He licks his lips. “So there’s that.”

A bird sings in the distance, but Tyler remains silent, looking away from Jamie and squinting up at the sun. “Ty, I’m dying over here.” 

“Is it after noon?” He squints some more. “I forgot to put my watch on. The sun looks like -- uh, 1:30?” Jamie slowly raises his arm, twisting his wrist so Tyler can see the face of his watch. “Huh. 11:43. Close enough. Want a beer?”

“Do I want a beer?” Jamie has the same look on his face he gets when he thinks the rookies are trying to prank him. “Really?”

“I’m getting a beer.” Tyler stretches as he stands, and walks up the stairs into the house. When he returns a few moments later with two bottles, Jamie just stares at him, mouth slightly open.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll drink both of them.” Jamie takes the offered bottle, and Tyler resumes his seat next to him, takes a long pull off his drink, and burps. “Okay, where were we?”

“You are such a fucking asshole,” Jamie says, but there’s no heat to it. He shakes his head and takes a sip of his beer.

“Oh, yeah, I’m the asshole. You think you came up with a get out of jail free card or something with that bullshit? You tell her you love me and it’s not as bad?”

“I told her I love you cause it’s true, dicksmack,” Jamie’s picking at the label of his bottle, little shreds falling to the grass. “You can believe me or not. She said if I’d slept with some random puckbunny she would have kicked my ass to the curb, and she’s pissed as all hell, but since it’s you --” 

Tyler groans and lets himself fall back to lay on the porch. He stares at the slowly spinning fan on the ceiling. “Yeah, it’s me. It’s still all fucked up and wrong.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty goddamn aware of that. Biggest mistake of my life.”

It hurts more than Tyler expected, even if he knows it’s true. “Right, of course. Which is why I’m leaving.”

“Like, cool, or you could hear me out.” There’s a soft thud as Jamie also lays down, his shoulder bumping Tyler’s. “She doesn’t expect me to give you up, she just wants me to be honest with her. And with myself. And you.”

Tyler sits up enough to drain his beer, then props himself up on his elbows so he can look at Jamie, who’s barreling onward with his argument.

“You don’t have to give up your guy, either.”

Tyler feels the hurt in his stomach shift to something hot, angry. 

“Oh, that’s big of you. You make up with your wife, I keep my down low not-boyfriend, and we play hockey like nothing happened?” Tyler can see the season stretching out, a season where the whole team wonders why he and Jamie are so tense around each other, where the topic is danced around but never asked. The corpse of a bromance, gone to dust.

Tyler exhales heavily. “Ashes to ashes, dust to side chicks. I gotta leave, man.”

“Okay,” Jamie says slowly. “First of all, you know I don’t know what the hell you’re referencing, but I’m gonna assume it’s a movie --” 

Tyler scoffs and mumbles, “It’s a visual album--”

“God, you’re the worst. Look, we did it all fucking wrong, but we can try to do it right.”

“What does that even mean?”

Tyler can feel Jamie’s shrug. “Shit, I dunno, Jayme’s the brains of this operation. All I know is I want her and I want you, and maybe it’s not the most selfish thing ever, maybe we can have that.”

That’s a lot to break down, and Tyler runs through what he thinks Jamie is saying. “She really doesn’t care? About you being with a man?”

Jamie’s sharp laugh echoes across the water. “Oh, she super cares. Have I not mentioned about twenty times how mad she is?” 

“But, cause you cheated? Or cause I’m a dude?”

“Wait, you’re a dude?”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“No seriously, you’re a dude? I mean, maybe the whole thing where I had your dick in my mouth should have clued me in -- “

“Jamie, shut up. She’s not totally freaked out that you’re gay.”

“I’m not gay.”

“I might be.” It’s finally out in the open, and it’s less the seismic event Tyler had expected. It just settles, from his lips to his stomach, and the relief at finally admitting it out loud feels as good as winning in overtime. 

In for a penny, in for a pound, he figures. “I’m seriously freaking out. I fucked my married best friend and I’m debating if I want to actually have a boyfriend, who I like, go out on dates with instead of just blowjobs in bar bathrooms or fucking in hotel rooms, and I think I’m in a shitload of trouble, here.”

They sit in silence for a while, till Jamie pipes up with, “Back when we were hooking up, those nights you didn’t text me back -- were you out with guys?”

“Yup.” 

“So, literal blowjobs in bars?”

Tyler shrugs. “Sometimes. I had a kind of steady thing with a soccer player for a while.”

Jamie is taken aback by this. “Was he….nice?”

“His dick was.” 

Jamie chokes a little on a poorly timed sip of beer. “Uh, good for you, I guess.”

“It was totally good for me. But then I had to quit seeing him when you got engaged cause I got all fucked up about you.” Tyler shakes his head. “I fucking love you too, okay?”

“Okay.” Jamie tilts toward him; their kiss is soft and lingering. When they separate, they can hear the dogs barking. “We’ll figure it out, but you gotta stay.”

“Okay.” It’s shockingly easy to believe Jamie, that they can do this, that he hasn’t lost him. 

When Jayme comes back, Tyler has his head resting on Jamie’s shoulder. The dogs run over and settle at his feet. She walks up to the porch, gives Jamie a peck on the cheek, and sits down next to him. “You couldn’t have fallen in love with Sharpy? It just had to be Segs?”

“Sorry, babe.” Jamie rubs at Tyler’s arm.

“I’m sorry, too,” Tyler pipes up. “Sharpy’s a total DILF.”

Jayme steals what’s left of Jamie’s beer. “He is, and I’m still so angry with both of you.”

They settle into a quiet lull as Tyler takes that in, lets it roll over him, into the places that had been filled with panic and self-hate. All those things are still there, but they’ve receded, slightly, and Jayme’s words layer over them. Under it all is the warmth of Jamie’s shoulder beneath his cheek, the knowledge that even if Jayme never gets over her anger at him, she’ll still be there for Jamie, and she’ll let Jamie be there for Tyler, too. 

Their relationship has already changed, irrevocably shifted into a new, amorphous thing, and the way it settles is any one’s guess. 

It doesn’t feel great, but it doesn’t feel like the end of the world, either. 

The afternoon sun is high, and it’s just on the side of too warm for him to be slumped against Jamie’s side, but Tyler isn’t moving any time soon. “Jay-Jay, you used to like me.”

He hears her shift, the wood boards under her creaking. “I do like you. I’m just --”

“Mad at me, I get it. That’s fair.”

“You want to live with that, or do you want to join me and my husband in getting a metric fuck ton of therapy and figuring this all out?” It’s phrased as a questions, but Tyler knows an ultimatum when he hears it. 

He thinks back to Boston, to the clean up your act speeches, to the feeling of the phone call he didn’t expect and the bleakness he’d felt about the thought of moving across the country, the feelings of failure washing over him. This feels different; an opening instead of a close. 

He can live with that, and he figures if Jayme’s putting it all on the table, he should, too. He sits up so he can look at both of them as he speaks. “Yeah, definitely. But we have to find somewhere so I can have my own therapist, too. Your husband isn’t the only one having a total crisis about gay shit.”

Jayme nods.“Queers and steers, huh?”

“Ugh, Jameson, your wife is brutal. I’m getting more beer. Yes?”

The Benns nod, and Tyler leaves them to walk to the kitchen. He can see them as he’s at the counter opening bottles. Jamie has thrown his arm around Jayme and presses a kiss to her temple; Jayme sinks into his side and rubs his back. 

They’re still in that spot when Tyler returns. He sits out on the grass and messes with the dogs while they all drink their beers, the sound of insects and birds rising and falling around them. 


	3. An incredibly short chat-fic epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chat fic epilogue. For the lolz.

**So, here is some of the chat log of things that didn’t exactly work themselves into the story, posted for posterity mostly cause summerfrost and I think we are hilarious (and we so are).**

**The original post-sex plot:**

· AND TYLER IS ALL SADLY MOPING IN HIS GIANT HOUSE

· THE HOUSE HE BOUGHT CAUSE IT IS CLOSE TO JAMIE

· and Jamie runs in all dramatic

· and Tyler is like "NO, pls, you already broke my heart"

· and Jamie is like "bro"

· and Tyler is like "Bro?"

· and THEN THEY KISS SURROUNDED BY LABRADORS

Regarding how Seg’s relationship with Jayme goes:

· Jamie broaches the topic of all 3 of them together once and his wife and segs are both like "LOL no, honey" 

Tyler: Uh, dudes are my main thing, now? I mean, I love Jayme and she’s super hot, and her rack looks really good in that top, like, really really really good -- you know what, this might work?

Jayme: It’s Segs, babe. Segs. Look at his dumb ass trying not to look at my tits over there.

Tyler: Hey! I take it back! No, wait shit, now I have a boner. Dammit. 

· Like, Tyler and Jayme try? Cause they love Jamie and Jamie wants it to happen so badly? So, they have a couple drinks, turn the lights down, and start making out, and Jamie thinks he might die it’s so hot at first, but then….

· They keep laughing?

· And Tyler can't get it up after the initial “boobs, heh” boner false alarm and she is like "omg, same, this is a disaster"

· he can't fuck Jamie's wife! 

· it's too hilarious and weird!

· **yoursummerfrost**

· YESSSS

· Segs: DUDE can you believe I almost banged your wife?? Wife: HONEY can you believe I almost banged your best friend??

· Jamie: YEAH I CAN AND IT WAS GONNA BE AWESOME YOU GUYS SUCK

· **agrossunderstatement**

· HAHAHAHA

· Segs and Jayme go to make margaritas

· Jamie is left with a boner and an empty bed

 

***bows***


End file.
